Deciding that nothing was to be gained by pursuing her, LaCruz pressed on, the sounds of screaming having now abated.

  The main shower block was tiled and dingy, with shower units on three sides. A number of half-dressed women stood in the middle, comforting one another. They were the women from the queue earlier and she recognised Kate Marsh who looked as though she’d been crying. There were a series of cubicles over to her right and the middle one had a dark slick of blood flowing out of it. The closer LaCruz got, the darker the blood became.

  She turned back to the women to ask if they knew what was happening but none of them seemed to be in a fit state to tell her so she pressed ahead. That was when she saw the legs sticking out into the cubicle next to the one the blood was coming from. It was an odd thing but for some reason, this seemed to relax her. There were no monsters here.

  She could deal with this.

  She didn’t go all the way inside, the thought of standing in all that blood was off-putting so she simply put her head around the doorway.

  A woman was lying on the floor, her head twisted backwards as if turning to see something behind her. She had a series of deep stab wounds across the whole front of her body: chest, breasts, abdomen. LaCruz counted seventeen in all and then had to look away.

  If that had been another Marine lying there then she’d have had to do something. Administer CPR. Something like that. As it was, she didn’t know who the woman was and so no point in prolonging things if she was still alive. She didn’t know what the medical facilities were like on this thing but she had to guess that they weren’t great. Not for the prisoners, at least.

  Against her better judgement, she ventured inside the cubicle and bent down to check for vital signs.

  The woman might once have been attractive but her face now looked wasted, her teeth rotting in her head.

  Drug addict? It was impossible to tell from such a cursory examination.

  She checked for a pulse and, when she couldn’t find one, she went back out to the other women.

  “Anyone see what happened?”

  No one responded. Then Marsh stepped forward. She looked genuinely shaken.

  “I’d only just come in here, when she started coming on to me. Telling me how attractive I looked and how she wanted to touch my hair. Next thing, she grabs me and puts a knife to my throat. Said that she was going to cut me and she was going to start with my face.”

  Marsh broke down then and two of the other women came forward to comfort her. While they did that, LaCruz went around checking the floor. It didn’t take her long to find the discarded shiv. She picked it up out of the water and shook it dry before presenting it to Marsh.

  “This it?”

  The blade was perhaps three inches long strapped to a makeshift handle with some tape.

  Marsh nodded but said nothing.

  LaCruz pointed over her shoulder with her thumb.

  “How’d she end up like that?”

  “There was another woman,” the woman to Marsh’s right said. “She was in one of the cubicles when we came in. Almost like she was waiting for something.”

  “Did you recognise her?”

  “It was too quick. I heard Kate scream. Saw the woman had hold of her, though I didn’t see the knife at first. Then this other woman appears. Rips the knife out of her hand. I thought she was punching her. Didn’t realise what was happening. Then the pair of them ended up in the cubicle and the other woman just ran off.”

  LaCruz tried to picture the woman who’d pushed past her in the corridor but couldn’t.

  She said, “Any of you recognise her? Somebody must have seen her?”

  But the others just looked at her blankly.

  LaCruz turned to Marsh.

  “Looks like you’ve got yourself a regular guardian angel.”

  *

  “I’m sorry,” Sylvie said. “I’ve thought about it, really I have. But the answer’s no.”

  LaCruz was lying pressed up against Sylvie’s back in the dark, hoping that the cell’s two other inmates were asleep. This was the plan that she’d pitched to Markham and she was starting to think that if she couldn’t get this sorted they were going to have to think of something else, and quickly.

  “It’s okay,” she said. “I can see you’re worried about it. I’ll just have to find someone else.”

  She didn’t say anything after that, just listened to the other woman’s breathing.

  After a long time, Sylvie said, “But where does that leave me? I mean, I’m still coming with you, aren’t I?”

  This was it. Sylvie’s fears bubbling to the surface. The fear of being left behind. This was where she was most vulnerable.

  “I can’t see why not,” LaCruz pushed away from Sylvie, rolled over and sat up. “It’s just that space on the first shuttle is limited. There’s only going to be room for the main players on there.”

  “But you won’t leave me, though. You promised”

  “No. I’d never do a thing like that. Just that I’m going to have a tough time arguing our case if we’re not the one’s taking the big risks. Only stands to reason. But there should be room on the second shuttle. We’ll have to see.”

  Sylvie rolled over so that she was now seeing LaCruz’s back. “I can’t wait for the second shuttle. I need to go now.”

  “I understand but it’s not that easy.”

  She could hear Sylvie’s breathing as she took all of this in. Less than twenty-four hours ago, Sylvie had been a drudge trapped in an oppressive system which would have disposed of her at the first sign of weakness but now, here she was with an ally and options. Now all she lacked was the courage to act on them.

  “Come and lie down again,” there was a hint of pleading in Sylvie’s voice. “I’m sure we can think of something.”

  “In a minute,” LaCruz said. “You’re getting me all confused now. I thought we were getting somewhere.”

  Sylvie ran a hand down her back. “And we were. We are. I’m just not ready, that’s all.”

  Which was different to what she’d said earlier.

  “And that’s what I don’t get. It’s not as if I’m asking you to get involved. All you have to do is leave the store cupboard unlocked. I’ll do the rest.”

  “But I can’t, don’t you see. They’ll know it was me who did it. Then I’ll get the blame and I’ll be gone. I’m sorry, I can’t.”

  LaCruz turned slightly so that she could see Sylvie’s outline in the dark. “But that’s just it. If we do this right, they won’t have time to react - we’ll be long gone.”

  “How do you mean? I don’t understand.”

  “Why do you think I need all that cleaning fluid, Sylvie.”

  “I don’t know,” her voice cracked with the emotion. “I really don’t. What you going to do, poison them? Is that it?”

  “No. We’re not going to poison them, though that’s an excellent idea. It’s a lot more decisive than that.”

  She mimed a huge, expanding explosion.

  “You’re going to blow the …”

  LaCruz slapped a hand across her mouth and held it there.

  “Shush! You’re going to get us all into trouble.”

  In the darkness, she could see Sylvie’s eyes flash from side to side as she processed this new information.

  “How long?” Sylvie pushed herself up into a sitting position. “After we do this. How long before we can get away?”

  “A couple of hours. Max.”

  “But how are you going to do it? Using cleaning fluid, that can’t be easy…”

  “The less you know the better,” LaCruz said.

  *

  Faulkner scanned the Tactical area for Lieutenant Kirby, Whaites’ second in command. Whaites was busying himself with last minute adjustments to their lasers. Kirby was relatively easy to spot though. Short stocky and ramrod straight, he appeared to be awaiting Faulkner’s command.

  “Lieutenant Kirby, I believe that you have a number of firing options for us?”

  “That is correct, sir.”

  “Then please begin when ready.”

  “Aye, sir. Launching six through to twenty-eight.”

  Those were the only tubes still available to them after the Loki’s last attack.

  The deck plates shuddered as each of the twenty-three missiles left the ship simultaneously.

  After everything that had happened earlier, the chances of any of these missiles getting through to their target were slim at best. And it wasn’t as if they had an endless supply of top-grade ordnance.

  So, what was the point of firing any of them?

  Certainly, those had been Faulkner’s thoughts before Whaites had gone through it with him.

  For one thing, a salvo of this kind was just the sort of thing that the enemy would be expecting. Why else would the Renheim endeavour to close with them if they weren’t still committed to their initial strategy – a strategy which had so far proved to be almost entirely ineffective?

  As Whaites kept stressing, they wanted their opponent to under-estimate them. They certainly didn’t want to raise any suspicions that they might be preparing to embark on a completely different strategy. But, as Schwartz had already pointed out, the Da’al laser array might be more sophisticated than theirs, they were still only lasers at the end of the day. They worked to a very narrow set of parameters and did only what they were programmed to do.

  And, in this case they were programmed to track and destroy incoming missiles.

  Nothing more.

  And while that programming could be altered, in order to target enemy craft, such a major change would take time.

  So, the longer they could keep the Da’al’s defences tied up dealing with the Renheim’s incoming missiles, the less time they’d have to re-program their lasers.

  The missiles in their current salvo had been chosen by Whaites for their drives which provided them with an incredible forward velocity. The hope was that their superior speed would pour more pressure on the enemy’s defences, making it even more difficult to plot possible intercepts.

  But in the same way that Faulkner hoped that Loki’s lasers couldn’t be readily re-purposed to an offensive stance, he had to resign himself to the fact the Renheim’s lasers could no longer be used for defensive purposes. And if the Da’al were to realise this and decided to throw everything they had at them, then the battle might well be over before it had even begun.

  The Loki’s defences opened up as soon as their missiles closed to within a hundred thousand kilometres. And what was so galling for those watching from the Renheim’s bridge was the smooth, efficient way the enemy’s lasers operated, calmly targeting the incoming missiles before taking them out with lethal precision.

  Whaites stopped what he was doing and turned towards the screen, narrowing his eyes as if willing the missiles on. But, as the seconds turned to minutes it soon became clear that, despite the shorter journey time, not much had changed. They were soon left with only four missiles continuing towards the target.

  Then, one of them lost control and began to veer off target before self-detonating.

  The targeting data for the remaining three were being fed directly back through the array and, with only seconds remaining it was beginning to look as though their luck was changing. But just as they were thinking this, two of the missiles simply disappeared, leaving only one still in flight.

  The main screen switched to a close-up of the Loki’s aft section but the missile was too fast to register properly. All they saw was a brief flash, a puff of debris as she detonated and then nothing.

  Faulkner started as an alarm disturbed the calm of the bridge.

  “Sir, they’re launching their counter-offensive.”

  Three missiles this time.

  Faulkner clenched his fists unconsciously. At this range they would arrive in less than two minutes, seriously cutting into their response times.

  “Sir,” Lieutenant Kirby said. “What would you like us to do?”

  Faulkner stroked the underside of his throat.

  “Leave it. There’s no point.”

  “We’ll be coming into effective laser range shortly,” Whaites said.

  “Just a little longer,” Faulkner cautioned. He knew how important the element of surprise was going to be here and he wanted them to wait until the last possible second before they committed themselves.

  Schwartz came and stood beside him, keeping her eyes facing forward as she spoke.

  “So, we’re not going to do anything about these incoming vectors?”

  “There’s nothing we can do.”

  “Nothing at all?”

  “Even if we could get something into the air, they wouldn’t be airborne long enough for them to get an effective lock on their targets.”

  “Is it too late for another maneuver?”

  “That’s a good idea but I don’t think we can risk it. Those laser batteries of ours need a stable platform if they’re to have any hope of hitting their target. I’m sorry, but we’re just going to have to take our licks on this one.”

  In the distance, Whaites was trying to catch his eye.

  “Captain? We’re ready.”

  “Very well, Mr Whaites. Fire when ready.”

  A ripple of excitement went through the bridge as the eight-crew over-seeing the individual batteries bent to their task.

  Faulkner and Schwartz shared a look.

  They were in the arena now. They’d given it their best shot. The only question remaining was, would it be enough?

  Almost immediately Loki began taking hits.

  They watched as a single battery of lasers blasted through her starboard nascelle, sending a long trail of propellant venting out into space.

  Someone standing behind Faulkner let out a whoop of joy. Schwartz turned in order to silence them with a stare, although, on this occasion, Faulkner thought they might have had a point. After days of their opponent seeming to thwart them at every turn, it came as a huge relief to finally get in some hits of their own.

  For a second, all the main deck lights went out to be replaced by an amber flashing light.

  No one moved.

  “Brace! Brace! Brace!” someone shouted as the whole ship lurched like a wounded animal.

  Schwartz lost her footing and Faulkner, without thinking, reached out to grab her. He managed to catch a hold of her tunic but he was already off-balance himself and the two of them went down in a heap.

  This first impact was followed by two more dark booming explosions which were followed a microsecond later by two enormous shock waves, one after the other.

  Faulkner was knocked onto his back and he lay there in the dark listening to the sound of someone screaming.

  It was several long seconds before the auxiliary lighting came on.

  As he lay there, trying to catch his breath, Faulkner looked up to see that a large part of the ceiling was missing.

  He pushed himself upright to look at a scene of utter devastation.

  Where the ceiling had come down, it had pinned several crew members to the floor.

  Someone was being pulled from the rubble while Whaites was overseeing a group working to lever up a fallen support strut.

  Faulkner managed to get onto one knee and then, using both hands, managed to push himself to his feet.

  “Mr Whaites,” he said in a direct tone. “Please return to your station, immediately.”

  Whaites stared at him as though he were mad but then appeared to gather himself.

  “Aye, sir.”

  He turned back to his section, identified one of the consoles which still appeared to be functioning and went over to it. He had to take a moment to wipe the screen clear of dust but then he was straight back to work.

  “Captain, can you give me a hand?”

  Schwartz was looking up at him.

  “Perhaps you ought to stay down there,” Faulkner said. “Till we get this sorted.”

  “I’m fine.”

  And, so saying, she grabbed hold of his wrist.

  She might have pulled him over if Faulkner hadn’t braced himself. He helped to drag her up onto her feet. Up close, he was surprised to see how pronounced her bump had become and for the first time he was struck by how discordant it seemed, having such a heavily pregnant woman on the bridge.

  But that all went out of his head when he saw the main screen. A dozen lasers lashed the Loki’s aft section, the majority impacting on a heavily fortified section on the port side. Some were deflected away while others struck deeper. Loki’s hull appeared to absorb a lot of the energy but there was only so much it could effectively dissipate. And, when the first onslaught ceased, it was possible to make out a fine jagged crack running along its port side. It might have been a trick of the light but Faulkner could swear that he saw something akin to bright lava bubbling up through the wound.

  After all the disappointments they’d faced utilising traditional ordnance, it seemed almost inconceivable that they could get around their adversary’s defences in this way. And yet, that was exactly what they were doing.

  Fresh warnings blared all around but Faulkner was far too distracted to notice. Under Whaites’ supervision, a new batch of laser fire was targeting the smaller central circle, hitting it with wave after wave of laser fire.

  All the while, the Loki’s defensive lasers remained silent. It was hardly surprising though, he reflected. The ship’s targeting software would have safety over-rides attached and would invariably assume that any ship operating so close to their own ship’s hull, had to be, by simple definition, friendly.

  The irony was that the software in place to ensure that such a potentially friendly fire incident could not take place would now have to be over-ridden before the Loki would be in a position to defend.

  “Captain Faulkner,” McNeill’s voice cut through the hubbub. “We are on a collision course with Loki. Permission to set new course coordinates?”

  A proximity alert then.

  Faulkner looked at Whaites before returning his gaze to the screen. Whaites pretended not to notice but there was something there.

  Was he one of the people who was worried that Faulkner was going to ram the thing? Schwartz had told him that there’d been a rumor circulating which had him as the main player in some Kamikaze death dive.